Story of Snow-Hammer
by QuillPhoenix
Summary: Follow Mjolna Direnni, an Altmer female raised by hardy Nords, as she fights with the Stormcloak Army to bring her home to peace, rid the people of the menace called the Thalmor, and reunite the families torn apart by war.
1. Saving Ulfric

**Saving Ulfric**

"What!?" shouted Galmar Stone-Fist, bringing his fist down hard onto the table in the war room. "You were supposed to protect him! You were supposed to ensure his safe return! YOU!" His face was beet red with rage and spittle flew everywhere as he shouted at her from across the room.

"Don't you think I know that, Galmar!?" Mjolna shouted back, just as loudly. "I know! I know it's my fault!" The fact that he was laying blame and pointing fingers instead of listening to her was making her furious. She knew she had been at fault, but that didn't make their next course of action any less important. They should be talking about getting Ulfric back, not arguing and raging at one another. "You _do_ know what we have to do next, don't you?" she spat at the man, barely keeping her voice down, a look of contempt on her face.

For once, Galmar seemed speechless for a moment, then, "No. No I don't! I never agreed to that. It's a ludicrous plan, I've said so from the beginning! And I don't think Ulfric would like-"

"It doesn't matter what Ulfric would like!" she screamed, cutting across his objections. "He's not here to decide. And besides, what he doesn't know what hurt him. _Right, Galmar?" _She said the the last part with particular ferocity. It was true, Ulfric would not like their plan, not at all. But Ulfric wasn't here to help them decide and Mjolna was betting that if he had to decide between death and the Plan, he'd choose the latter.

"It's an atrocity!" he screamed, hitting in the table with his fist again. "It'll just make everything worse and-

"Letting Ulfric get beheaded will make everything worse!" she yelled, yet again interrupting him. "Galmar," she began again, with a softer voice, "We've _got_ to do this. It's our only choice. We have no other plan and if we don't follow through, he'll die. And the revolution will die with him. And Skyrim will never be free. Is that what you want?" Mjolna knew those words would cut him deeply and she hoped they would have desired affect.

Galmar stood stock still for a few moments, weighing the options. She could see the emotions warring on his face, his expression flickering between anger and ascent. "I still don't know about this, _girl,_" he growled, emphasizing the last word, knowing it would grind on her temper. Mjolna had proven herself to him again and again, first with the ice wraith teeth, then with countless victorious battle across Skryim, but Mjolna got the feeling Galmar never trusted women in battle anyway, least of all this woman, an Altmer. "You know I don't trust you as far as I can throw you, even though-"

"You trust me very much, then," she said with a smirk, enjoying his anger. Baiting Galmar was one of Mjolna's favorite hobbies, but she had always managed to keep it to a minimum when Ulfric was around. Fortunately, Ulfric wasn't around at the moment, and she was having a bit of fun, siphoning off some of her anger into the Stone-Fist.

"Quit interrupting me!" And now he was shouting again. _Great_ thought Mjolna. Though she had been expecting it. "I still don't know about this plan, girl. It's awfully risky. And once it's in motion… Only you would be able to stop it! And you haven't been doing a very good job at stopping anything!"

She already knew all of what he was saying and his insistence to keep pointing blame instead of talking about the problem was starting to grate on her nerves. They needed to start with their plan, not stand here and discuss the problem.

"Galmar, do you think for one second I'm not sorry?" Mjolna's voice was lowered now, all the rage gone. She was sorry, so sorry she had failed Ulfric. If anything happened to her it would all be her fault, the revolution would die and there would only be one person to blame; her. "Listen, they're heading to Helgen from Whiterun so we only have a few days," it was all coming out in a rush now. She could feel their time window closing and there was so much to do yet. "Please, Galmar. What other choice do we have?"

"None. But this had better work! We're taking an awful risk here and with no proof that this will actually go as we plan."

"You just let me worry about that, Stone-Fist," replied Mjolna, grinning now. "Just get to the Throat of the World with Wuunferth and get rid of that bloody dragon up there, just _don't kill him, _alright? And for the Gods' sake don't let the Greybeards see you. None of them would be overly joyed about what we're doing…"

"Aye, lass. We're going to have to work quickly. You have twenty-four hours to get what we need and meet us there. And _then_ you have to get yourself arrested with Ulfric. I don't know how this is going to work out."

"It will, Galmar. It has too," and she swept out of the room, hurried down the great hall and out the double doors in Windhelm, thinking that they didn't have very much time at all.

AN: This is a first attempt, and I'm not very happy with it, so if you have any tips feel free to give them to me.


	2. The Sacrifice

**The Sacrifice**

After Galmar had gone, Mjolna stood for a few moments taking in the room; the smell of sweat and war that lingered in the walls, was ingrained into every piece of furniture; the view through the windows that looked out over the White River. She wondered how long it would be before she was in this room again and prayed to whichever Divine was listening that she would get the chance. Their plan was risky at best, and deadly at worst.

She got a small, raggedy piece of paper out of the inner lining of her traveling cloak and read down the list that was written on it:

The Summoning

Scroll of Summoning and Sealing

Charcoal (to make the scroll)

Filled Black Soul Gem

Dragon heart

Sacrifice

She read through it quickly, for what must have been the thousandth time, but when her eyes landed on the last item of the list an ice cold fist seemed to clench around her heart. When she and Galmar had first discovered this list, in the early days of their planning, they had searched every book, sought out ever mage who might have an inkling of knowledge about it, but they had all insisted that this list would most certainly require a human sacrifice. She had personally looked for a loophole in all the text she'd read on the subject, but, of course, to no avail. It had to be a person.

A lot of thought had been put into the fifth item on the list and Mjolna and Galmar had agreed that if they were to keep this plan from Ulfric, it would have to be someone he would never notice was missing, so they chose a dark elf from the Grey Quarter. But, as there always is, there was a tricky part. Along with being unnoticeable by Ulfric, it would have to be someone who trusted Mjolna, so they would go with her when the time came. She was no stranger to murder, but the very thought of killing someone who openly trusted her was enough to turn her stomach.

She swallowed the bile that was threatening to climb up out of her stomach and trudged out of the room, across the wide dining hall and through a door on the opposite side. The door opened onto a case of cold stone stairs that she climbed swiftly and walked down a long hallway, opening another door at the end into a room she had never been in before, but had heard of often from Ulfric. The room contained an arcane enchanter, an alchemy lab, and shelves upon shelves of books, soul gems, and various alchemical ingredients that Mjolna was positively itching to brew together as soon as she laid eyes on them.

_This must be it,_ she thought, _Wuunferth's room. _No other room she'd been to in the palace had possessed such an obviously magical aura, it was nearly palpable. She could almost see the leftover magicka swirling around the room from past experiments. She breathed it in for a few seconds, inhaling it deep, hoping to gain some courage from it. Then she strode across the room to a bed that looked as though the owner of it didn't use it much, it was neatly made and shoved into the corner so as not get in the way of other, more important things in the room. Mjolna looked critically at it for a moment then plunged her hand into the sleeping hay at the bottom in the top right corner, the one closest to the wall, just where Galmar had said it would be. Her hand brushed across a cold, hard surface; a box. She grasped it and pulled out of its safe hiding place.

She and Galmar had agreed that if he or Wuunferth were stopped by guards or Imperials with this box in the possession, they'd both be in a lot of trouble. Mjolna knew the box contained everything they would need, everything, that is, except the sacrifice, of course. It contained a few pieces of parchment and charcoal, sitting alongside a filled Black Soul Gem. If either of the men had been caught with it, it would have been assumed that they had practicing Dark Magic. She opened it and took inventory of the contents, plucking the parchment and and charcoal from their places and flattened out the paper on the nearest flat surface. Carefully, painstakingly, she drew a symbol of greatest power on it using the charcoal, the symbol that alone would be stronger enough to summon the thing they needed. When she was done, about twenty minutes later, she sat back and admired her handwork.

She then flipped it over and quickly scribbled another symbol on the back, a symbol she knew well.

After making sure that every circle, line, and curve were in the right place, she gently rolled up the Scroll of Summoning and Sealing and put it in her inside pocket next to the list, adding the Black Soul Gem with them.

She placed the now empty box back in its hidden spot in Wuunferth's bed and left the room. Walking back down the long corridor, down the cracked, stone steps and into the main dining hall of the palace once again. She turned toward the heavy oaken doors at the end of the hall and walked over, heaved the doors open, and swept outside into the night, heading toward Hjerim, the house in Windhelm that Ulfric had given her as a prize after a particularly difficult battle. Of course, she'd had to root out the serial murderer that had lived there before her, but that had been easy enough.

The walk freezing, and seemed longer than it should have, probably because of the cold. The wind howled all around her, threatening to whip off her travel cloak. Every now and then, when she turned a corner onto another street, she would get knocked back several feet from the force of it. She _hated_ Skyrim weather. Her Altmer flesh and blood just wasn't up for it the way most of these damn Nords were. She missed her warm home, sometimes more than she dared to admit, but they had wronged Skyrim in a way Mjolna wouldn't easily forgive. She hadn't spent much time in the Summerset Isle's, even when she was a babe. She'd been orphaned at a young age and had somehow landed in Skyrim where she grew up in Honorhall Orphange in Riften. A place that still sent shivers of terror down her back.

Finally, when she thought she would no longer be able to stand it, she reached the front door to Hjerim, and pushed her way inside. She was very tempted to sit down by the fire and rest her bones, warm her backside. She'd hurried back to Windhelm all the way from Whiterun the previous night and hadn't even bothered to lie down before going straight to Galmar to bring him the news. Now she was regretting this decision, even though it had been the right thing to do. There was hardly any time to complete their plan, so there was no choice but to act hurriedly.

Quickly, she dashed upstairs and took the fourth item from her list out of it's lock box beneath some loose floorboards under her wardrobe. The heart of the dragon called Numinex. Even though Mjolna had always known she would have to give it up someday, it was the prize of her stolen collection. The tale of how she'd come by it was a thrilling one, to be sure. The fool of a Jarl in Whiterun, Balgruuf, had foolishly kept this pretty in a display case in the front hall of his palace, Dragonsreach. The things was pitiful and decayed, Farengar Secret-Fire had concocted a strange new potion to revive it and preserve it forevermore.

Once she'd gotten it in her possession, she knew it wouldn't be long before the authorities were out searching for it. It had been the prize of dear Balgruuf's collection, too, and she was sure he'd stop at no end to find it. But he'd never find it now. She was sure it was going to be destroyed in the summoning at the Throat of the World, just another thing she would have to lose tonight. "Speaking of which," she whispered to herself aloud, "I need to go… _collect_ the last item." Mjolna had been trying to distance herself from this part of the plan.

Mjolna filled her pack with food and drink, a few healing potions, and some extra arrows for her bow. She made sure her twin ebony blades were secured on either side of her hips and tightened the holster that was holding her glass bow onto her back, and made her way out of the front door and into the icy cold again. The trip to Sadri's Used Wares in the Grey Quarter was much shorter than what it had taken to get to her house from the Palace. In a matter of minutes she was standing outside the shop, raising her fist to knock on the door. Usually, she would just barge right in, but seeing as the hour was late, she had decided to show some manners and knock first.

"Oh, bloody hell!" Mjolna heard Revyn Sadri curse from inside. "Who the 'ell is knocking at this time of night? I just laid down, I tell ya!" She heard hurried footsteps stomping down the creaky wooden stairs and a rustle of material that suggested Revyn was pulling on some clothes on his way to the door. After a few more choice words from him the door was flung open and an angry, disheveled, and tired looking Revyn stood from the inside of the shop looking out at her, squinting past the snow and shadow to make out who it was.

A range of emotions fled across the elf's face; shock at someone calling upon him so late in the night, excitement to see it was a friend, and then annoyance at remembering the reason why he was so shocked in the first place. The look of excitement nearly broke Mjolna's heart. "Oh, Divines," he griped, "What is it now, girl?" She was glad to hear that there was no emphasis on 'girl' as there had been when Galmar had said it earlier, and was surprised to find that she didn't mind the little insult coming from Revyn anway. "Another ruddy adventure?" he asked, trying to sound angry, but Mjolna swore she saw the corners of his mouth twitch upwards.

"Exactly! I hope you've got you're traveling clothes all warmed up, Rev. It's going to be a gold one," Mjolna forced herself to sound cheery, even though with every falsely cheery word she had to force down a lump in her throat that was threatening to make her cry.

"Oh, Gods'," he said, his voice dripping with exasperation. "Do you know what time it is? This couldn't wait 'till mornin'?" he demanded of her, though not unkindly.

"Sorry, Rev. I have something that needs dealing with up at the Throat of the World, and the last time I made that journey alone a Frost Troll nearly flung me off the mountain," she answered, still in the fake cheery voice, but managing a small chuckle at his indignant look.

"Good grief, Mjol, you can handle dragons, but not a little Frost Troll?" he asked, letting out a laugh. "I'm ashamed to call you Dragonborn! What do you have that needs dealt with all the way up there, anyway?"

"The Greybeards, of course, the old milk-drinkers. They've finally decided to let me meet Paarthurnax," she lied, with relative ease.

Revyn's face fell a little as a suspicious expression flitted across it, "I thought they already said you should go meet him?"

Mjolna faultered a little in her lie. She had forgotten that she'd already told him that. It was true, the Greybeards had told her she should meet their leader. It had weirded her out a little at the time, the old men wanting her to go meet an even older man that lived alone at the Throat of the World. But she had met him since, the old dragon that the Greybeards protected, and luckily she hadn't told Revyn about it.

"They did, but I haven't gone yet. And if Frost Trolls live halfway up that mountain I don't want to find out what else lives on it when I'm alone," she was trying to sound pleading and helpless because she knew it would stir up his fatherly instincts.

Sure enough, his face softened and his grin brightened, a look of mischief gleaming in his eyes. "Sure, Mjol. Let me just pack some essentials and close up shop, then we can go," he assured her, a broad smile now firmly on his face.

He jogged back up the stairs and Mjolna heard the unmistakable noises of someone rustling around a wardrobe, trying to decide what to take with them on a journey. "What do you think I should bring? I imagine it's gonna be pretty cold all the way up…" he called to Mjolna downstairs.

He continued to ask rhetorical questions and babble on about their past adventures, saying things like, "Remember that time we met the coven of vampires?" or "What kind of weapons, do you think? Melee or range?" All the while, Mjolna just stood in the front room of his shop, once again taking in a room that she may very likely never see again. Her eyes began to sting and burn, and the lump in her throat that had been ever present since Ulfric had gotten capture had become more pronounced. It felt as though a lead weight had dropped into her stomach. All she could think about was the fact that she was killing her friend. _Murdering_ her friend. By the time Revyn bounced back down the stairs with an overly stuffed, very large rucksack, Mjolna's face was shining with tears. She had to turn around and pretend to examine an elven dagger on his countertop so that she could wipe her eyes and blink back the remaining tears.

"Well, I'm as ready as I'll ever be," he said, still beaming at her.

Mjolna hurriedly finished inconspicuously wiping her face on her sleeve, then turned around to face him. The moment she caught sight of her companion's traveling bag, she laughed heartily. "Rev! You're not going to need _that_ much!" she said, "We're only going to the Throat of the World and back."

Revyn didn't reply, but he grinned and Mjolna saw a red flush creeping up his neck. It was so typical of him to bring so much stuff. He was always one that liked his comfort and would only sacrifice it if it was impossible to bring along. She watched his back as he walked to the door, opened it, and then stood aside to let her through. She smiled kindly to him, stepped past and out of the door, into the cold for the third time that night. Her journey was just beginning and already all she could think of was how much she was going to miss the man that was now walking beside her.


	3. To Ivarstead

**To Ivarstead**

They'd been walking for half the night now, the sun was nearly up. Mjolna could just see the faint pink outline over the mountains that meant it was about to break the horizon. Considering they had left not more than five hours ago, around midnight, they had make remarkable time. The lack of obstacles and the urgency of the situation had Mjolna hiking across the country as if her own life depended on it, instead of someone else's.

Revyn kept asking what the hurry was, but Mjolna would only shrug, saying, "I just want to get this over with," before dropping back into the silence she had assumed since leaving Windhelm. What else could she tell him? That the entire country, perhaps continent, depended on this mission? That the fast the went, the shorter his life became? No. Mjolna wasn't sure what was driving her to go so fast, other than Ulfric's life. She knew that the quicker they got to the Throat of the World, the closer she was to having to murder her friend.

This thought once again pulled Mjolna up short and for one fleeting, terrifying second, the confession was on the tip of her tongue, about to pass through her lips and into the open air. She actually turned to ward Revyn, her mouth already forming the words. His back was turned to her, he was looking the way they had come, examining the sun's position just as she had been doing not moments earlier.

Revyn turned to face her, that fatherly grin still on his face, "Mjol, don't you think we could spare a few _seconds_ to stop and have some breakfast? I'm starving! We've been walking for hours." And just like that, the moment was gone. She closed her mouth and nodded. Maybe it was better this way. He could be happy and oblivious for a few more hours, instead of afraid. Because either way, wether he knew his fate or not, he was going up that mountain and he was going to die. It would be better, not to mention easier, to lead him up the mountain rather than drag him, kicking and screaming, up to the top.

Somehow, Mjolna managed a smile when she replied, "Sure, Rev. But just for a few moments. We still have another few hours to go."

"Just what is your hurry, girl? We haven't stopped since we left the city. I know I got some sleep last night but you look like you haven't slept in a week," he was starting to sound concerned, more like the father figure he had become to her than the friend she had known since returning to Skyrim.

"I just want to get this over with, Revyn. You know I have no fondness for the Greybeards. They would stop me from using the Voice. In fact, when we get to High Hrothgar, I would rather them not know we were there. They've been wanting me to speak to Parthurnaax for a while and I don't think they would be overly joyed if they knew I was bringing a companion."

They walked a little further toward a particularly tall tree they could see in the distance. Revyn was wearing a puzzled face, certainly he thought her excuse wasn't good enough. Why would Mjolna want to hurry into something she didn't want to do? He knew her better then that. She was more likely to put it off rather than speed towards it.

"That doesn't sound like you, Mjol. What's so important about meeting their leader, anyway? What's happened to you? Something isn't right. I knew it as soon as I opened the door last night."

They were nearly to the tree and Mjolna had to admit that she was looking forward to being able to sit down, in the cool shade of the tree, even if it was only for a few minutes. She had been moving for days on end without sleep and it would be wonderful to be stationary for just a little while. Maybe it was time to give Revyn some answers, not the whole truth, of course. Just enough to make him stop asking questions.

She heaved a deep sigh, as if the aspect of telling one of her closest friends the truth was going to kill her. "Ulfric was captured. In Whiterun."

There was a few moments silence as Revyn processed this. She could see a handful of different emotions crossing his face. Glee, Revyn had no love for Ulfric, neither did any of the other Dunmer that inhabited the poverty stricken Grey Quarter in Windhelm. Regret and shame at being glad of his capture; Revyn knew Mjolna cared deeply for Ulfric. Something that almost resembled happiness. She knew he was thinking of all the good that could to the Grey Quarter if Ulfric were removed from his throne in Windhelm.

"I am… sorry, Mjol-" He began, but was cut short by Mjolna's doubtful retort.

"No, you're not Rev, don't lie," her voice sounded bitter, almost resentful and she immediately regretted being so rude, she had a problem with letting people finish what they were saying, _As Galmar knows well_ she thought, with something of a grim smile.

"No, Mjol, I am. I know you love him," he didn't even bother trying to finish his sentence this time, he knew she would have plenty to say at this declaration.

"As a _friend,_" she replied, emphasizing the word. "If that was what you meant, then yes. I do. But he barely trusts me. You know he hates my kind as much as he does yours," she let out a bark like laugh as she thought back to when she had first been to Windhelm, hoping to join the Stormcloaks. Ulfric had been certain she was an Aldmeri spy and wouldn't hear a word she had to say, until she used her Unrelenting Force shout, screaming "_FUS, RO, DAH" _right there in his great hall, nearly knocking him through one of the windows. The look on Ulfric's face had been priceless.

Finally, the reached the large tree and slowly sat down. Mjolna's joints seemed to be stuck in the upright position, like they had forgotten how to sit and be still. The sensation of resting her legs was so wonderful that, for a moment, she wanted to lay there all day, for the rest of forever and let someone else work out this whole mess.

"We will have to… agree to disagree on that," Revyn said quietly, and Mjolna could feel a flush creeping up her neck and onto her face, one that had nothing to do with anger. "But I don't see what this has to do with meeting… what, Parthurnaax, was it?"

"He can further my training in the Voice, and I might be able to use it to free Ulfric. The trouble is, we only have a few days before he's brought in front of the executioner in Helgen. I can't think why in Nirn they would want to do it there. Tiny, filthy little place it is. But I hear tell that's where General Tullius and legionnaires are holing up. I think our progress has them scared." She felt a vindictive sort of pleasure at the words as she spoke them.

"How long do you think it'll take Parthurnaax to teach you? It sounds like you don't have very long to learn."

"Well, it only took a few hours for the Greybeards to teach me a few Shouts. Hopefully, since they speak so highly of him, it won't take long," she replied, getting some bread and goat cheese out of her pack along with a stamina potion to keep her from falling asleep while they sat.

"Let's hope not, for the good of Skyrim and the Nords, eh?" Mjolna heard the sarcasm almost dripping off his words, could feel the satisfaction of letting his point of view be known to her, while not actually saying it.

"I promise, Rev, when this over, when we've won the war, I'll appeal to Ulfric. He won't be able to turn me down then. The Grey Quarter will get better lodgings, better food, better everything. But _especially_ a better drainage system. I'm tired of wading my way through muck and waste every time I visit you." As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she wanted to cry. She wanted ball up and sob, rocking back and forward while confessing everything to Revyn. She knew that this was her last promise to him. If she hadn't promised it, she knew it would have been his dying wish, aside from returning to Morrowind. A better place to live for him and his kin. Only… he wouldn't be there to enjoy it.

"That…" began, Revyn. His voice sounded as though he too wanted to cry. "That would be wonderful, Mjol. What you said, it means a lot. It really does. But how long is that going to be, hm? How long before the Nord's war is over? And why do you want the Nords to win, anyway? You're an Altmer, for the Divines sake! Why not side with the Dominion?" he asked as he bit into the shepherd's pie he'd brought with him.

"Has anyone ever told you that you asked too many questions?" Mjolna asked, a trace of annoyance leaking into her tone. If he kept up this interrogation she was going to let something slip. One false slip up and she would accidentally give something away that would lead him to figure out her plan. She finished her bread and cheese and started gulping down her stamina potion, pulling another out of her bag. The faster she ate, the quicker she could get them on the road again and maybe she would be able to halt conversation.

"Quite a few times, yes," he replied with a smirk. Clearly, he was proud of this fact. "I have a habit of finding things out."

"A bad habit, if you ask me. But to answer your question, the Imperial's are wrong. What would you do if some far off empire were trying to rule your life? If that empire knew nothing of your customs, your culture, your day-to-day life, but were ruling your lands anyway? Now, what if that empire declared that your god wasn't real? That the God or God's were blasphemous, and wouldn't allow you to worship them? What would you do, Rev? How far would you go to get rid of them?" Her voice had risen almost to a shout. By asking him all of these questions, she was really talking herself into what she was doing. Talking herself into continuing their journey, and doing what she needed to.

She glanced at Revyn and could tell by his expression that she had pulled him up short with these questions. "I… I don't know, Mjolna."

They sat in silence until Revyn was done with his lunch as well, then packed up and began their trek again. The pair walked for another few hours before Mjolna could finally see the shadow of the mountain looming ahead of them. Her eyes travelled up the steep slope to the strange, infamous cloud that rested at its peak. She'd never been there before but had heard stories from other Nord's about what lived up there, and she shuddered to think half of them true.

For the next few hours, they just walked, not talking, and watched the mountain grow closer and closer. The more clear it's shadow became, they more nervous Mjolna got. She wasn't prepare for this, yet what choice did she have? Ulfric's time window was closing rapidly and she had to find a way to pry it back open, to ensure that he lived to win the war. Yet, at what cost? At the cost of her friend? Mjolna was beginning to doubt her plan. What was to be won from murdering one of the closest friends she'd made since coming back home.

Mjolna thought on this until, finally, they were standing in the shadow of the mountain, looking up towards that cloud that always hovered at the top, wondering yet again what was at the top. The rest of the journey had passed in relative quietness. They'd met only a few wolves and one giant on their way here, killing the wolves and slipping around the giant's camp.

"Almost there!" called Revyn, optimistically. While Mjolna had paused to take in the scene, Revyn had kept on walking, stepping onto the road that lead directly through the town, Ivarstead. The path, she knew, would lead them straight to the foot of the mountain, to the 7,000 steps. Which, in turn, would lead them up to the High Hrothgar.

"I don't know what you're so excited about," she grumbled. "This is the hardest part."


	4. Round the Mountain

'**Round the Mountain**

Mjolna stood gazing at Revyn, his mouth slightly open and his eyes wide. They'd finally reached the bottom of the mountain and she had asked to stop for a minute so she could swallow down another stamina potion. It had been nearly three days now since she'd last slept. As they'd neared the mountain through Ivarstead she felt her eyelids drooping uncontrollably and the ground had begun spinning a little. Still, she couldn't risk stopping now. She was so close to getting the first part of this mission done and time was still so restricted for this whole plan to be pulled off in time. She had to keep going.

Even as she thought this, she took another look at Revyn who was still ogling the mountain and allowed him a few more moments of site gazing before clearing her throat to get his attention. "Rev, we gonna stand here all day and stare at it, or are we going to climb it?" she asked.

"Huh?" he replied, distractedly. "Oh! Oh, right. Yeah. We'd better get going then, eh?" he said, chuckling. "It's just so beautiful. I never thought much about it before now. Thought it was just another place Nord's would try to keep us out of. But now that I see it… I understand why they guard it so jealously. It really is a sight to behold."

Mjolna looked at him, half-exasperated and half-amused. "Well now you can tell those Nords that a Dunmer has been up the mountain," she felt only a slight twinge of remorse as she said, knowing full well that he never would. "Alright," she started again, trying to get her mind off of this, "Let's get this started, shall we?"

Again, they walked in silence for a bit and Mjolna recalled that this had been another reason she'd always liked Revyn's company. He knew when to hold a conversation, and when to be quiet and let her think. He alone understood that she wasn't always such a vocal person and sometimes enjoyed just listening to the natural sounds of Skyrim. Mjolna relished this music, the natural sounds she'd never quite grown accustomed to in Summerset Isles had always sounded so foreign to her ears, no matter how much time she'd spent there, and despite the fact that those were supposedly her homelands.

As their feet carried them to the steps, and up them along the path etched into the face of the mountain, she allowed herself to forget her current predicament and just breath, and listen. By Skyrim's standards, it was quite a warm day. The native birds whistled happily and, if she focused hard, she could hear the steps of the elk hidden in the trees along the path. The sun was passed it's zenith but still shone down on the two travelers, warming their bones, and spirits, from the previously frigid night. Mjolna was wondering how long they'd have till nightfall when a sudden cry broke her thoughts.

"Ahoy, Dovahkiin!" called a distant, but familiar, voice.

Mjolna jerked herself out of her reverie, losing her concentration and focus on the sounds and views around her. It was Karita, a pilgrim on the 7,000 Steps Mjolna often ran into on her way to visit the Greybeards. "Hello, Karita," she replied, managing a smile despite the fact that she was slightly annoyed by the sudden outburst.

"Going to the Greybeards again, eh?" Karita asked. "I don't blame you. If I could Shout I'd want all the teaching I could get. Been trying to get them to let me into their temple for years, matter o' fact." She looked a little annoyed at this last, as if she couldn't understand why on Nirn they wouldn't have any interest in her.

"Ay, we are," Mjolna replied, gesturing between herself and Revyn. "Though, not to visit the Greybeards. We're going a little further this time, up to the peak."

"Well I can't imagine what you'd want to see up there!" Karita chuckled. "Nothing but a bunch of snow and rocks."

"Have you been up there?" interjected Revyn in his deep, drawling voice, bringing Karita's attention to him for the first time.

"Well, no," the Nord slowed her words for a split second, stumped, then recovered her usual aonnoying, bubbly composure saying, "But what else would there be? I don't imagine there'd be anything of interest all the way up there. Unless it's frost trolls and ice wraiths you're looking for."

Karita was now looking very inquisitively at Revyn, eyes narrowed and sweeping across his face, as if wondering what business a Dunmer had traveling the steps at all.

"We'd better be on our way, Karita," said Mjolna, not liking how Karita was looking over Revyn, almost cruelly, as if such a being were beneath her. "I'm sure we'll find what we're looking for. I'm sorry we interrupted your meditation," she finished coldly, grabbing Revyn's arm just above the elbow and tugging him in the direction they need to go.

"Well," called Karita, again using her bubbly, excited voice, "Good luck! I hope you find what you're looking for," and with that, she sat back down, in front of the tablet she'd been studying and resumed her silence.

Under normal circumstances, Mjolna would have stopped at each of the stones, offering her praise to Kyne and gleaning all the knowledge and powers from them. Now, however, there was hardly time to do what she set out to do, much less spend her usual few extra hours traveling up the path and revering Kyne's grace.

"Did you know it was Kyne who graced the Dragonborn's with their gift, Rev?" Mjolna asked, very unexpectedly.

"No," he replied, shocked. "Kyne? That doesn't familiar."

"Well, I guess it wouldn't. Most people know her by the name of Kynareth." As she said this, she watched his face from his reaction. She wasn't disappointed. His mouth dropped nearly to the ground in shock and his eyes widened with comprehension.

"Hah!" he chuckled, "Of course. No wonder that name sounded similar."

"Yes," continued Mjolna, as though he hadn't said anything, "It was she who gave me my Voice," she smiled as she said this, sending a silent _Thank you_ up to her matron. After all, Mjolna was very fond of her powers, and made a daily effort to make sure Kyne knew just how thankful she really was.

After this exchange they fell back into their silence, continuing on for some time with just their peaceful company. After a while, though, Mjolna started swooning a little again and had to stop to rest. Being still made her fidgety, her mind actively reminding her that she only had, at best, a day and half left until Ulfric arrived in Helgen to face the headsman's axe. And even less time for Revyn to live.

As she was picking at the seams of her dirty ebony boots while sitting under a tree, Revyn piped up, "Mjol, I know you better than many, wouldn't you say?" he asked, as he took a bit of a large horker loaf.

"Yes, you could say that," she replied warily. "Why?"

"So I'd know if something were bothering you? Something… more than what you're letting on, right?"

"Revyn, I've a lot to worry about. The war, the Imperials and Stormcloacks… Ulfric. It's a lot. I'm sorry if I haven't seemed myself lately." She was trying to dissuade him, to veer him off this course of conversation. She didn't want to tell him what was truly, deep down, bothering at the moment. How could she? The fact that she was going to stab him in the back the moment they reached the Throat of the World would undoubtedly send him running and screaming all the way back to Windhelm.

"That's all, is it? Just the war, and your lover, Ulfric?" he asked, with a note of a derision in his voice. She recognized the jab at her love life, and decided to let that one go.

"Isn't that enough?" she asked, a note of real exhaustion in her voice. Not just physical exhaustion, either. She was tired, tired of fighting the Imperials, tired of the Nord's treatment of her, but what else could she do? Skyrim was just as much her home as anyone else's. She'd been born here, and mostly raised here as well. Besides, once she'd won the war, alongside with Ulfric and Galmar, they'd forget all about their prejudice towards her and swear they'd always been behind her.

Revyn gave another laugh and resumed eating while Mjolna pulled out a roasted rabbit leg and looked at it glumly. She was just thinking about how small the leg seemed when an idea struck her.

"Rev, how about we make a meal of it?" she said, pulling out the rest of her food. Mammoth steaks, steamed mudcrab legs, venison soup, pheasant roast, clam chowder, chicken dumplings, and apple cabbage stew. She took a quick inventory of all the uncooked food she still had in her pack and decided that she alone would be able to get to Helgen and then back to Windhelm with just that. Plus, there was a high probability that she'd be able to get some more on the way.

Revyn stared at the food for a moment before saying, "All this? Isn't this all you have? Why, that's more food than I've ever seen at all once in all my life!"

Mjolna giggled softly before diving back into her pack and rummaged around for dessert; apple dumpling, jazbay crostata, braided bread, garlic bread, and potato bread. Just the smell of so much food made her mouth water uncontrollably and her eyes glaze over with contentedness.

"Good grief, what brought this on?" Revyn asked hysterically. Mjolna could see that he too was unbearably excited at the prospect of eating all these.

"Hold on, I'm not done!" And with that, she pulled out some Argonian Bloodwine, Black-Briar Reserve, and spiced Ale.

Without saying anything else, Revyn grabbed the nearest ale and potato bread and started devouring everything he could reach. Mjolna chuckled again and sat back for a minute to watch him. She felt a brief moment of joy in his company before it was almost immediately eclipsed with an overwhelming sense of guilt. This was, after all, Revyn's last meal. But Mjolna was determined to make his best. To distract her from these thoughts she quickly grabbed whatever was closest to her, which happened to be chicken dumplings and the Argonian Blookwine, and began to chow down.

After they'd eaten all they could hold, almost until they were on the brink of throwing it all back up, she packed up the scraps that remained and got out several stamina potions. She drank almost three bottles and offered the last two to Revyn, who took one and begin sipping at it while they resumed their trek up the path. The sun was fast disappearing below the horizon now and Mjolna's dread of not being able to get back down the mountain in time began to return.

What is she missed the cart to Helgen? What if they didn't arrest her? Of course, she had a plan for that, something so extreme they'd _have_ to arrest her. But what if they decided to put her on a different cart and take her someplace else? There were so many variable to this plan, nothing was set in stone, and it absolutely worried Mjolna. There was so much that could go wrong and Ulfric's life hung in the balance.

When night began to fall and the sky darkened, Mjolna could begin to make out High Hrothgar. This was a little worrisome, as Mjolna really didn't want the Greybeards to know she was there, much less what she was about to attempt.

"Rev, do you think we could just skirt around High Hrothgar? You know I'm not so fond of the Greybeards, I don't want them to know I'm here. They weren't overly excited about me finally meeting their leader," Mjolna explained, hoping against hope that this explanation would be enough for him.

He gave her a suspicious look out of the corner of his eye, but didn't object. "Whatever you want Mjol, I'm just along for the ride," he gave her a smile and it was so genuine that Mjolna nearly returned without thinking. However, she did think, she thought about his looming death and could only manage a half-smile, half-grimace that made him give her yet another worried look. But thankfully he didn't say anything.

"Great, theres a short little path over the side of the temple that I carved out practicing with my voice. I thought it would be useful one day, if ever I didn't mean the Greybeards to know I was coming."

She veered to the left and squinted through the darkness towards the left-side of the building, looking for the ravine in the rock that she'd made there. She spotted it almost at once and made her way over, treading softly on the crunching snow so as not to alert the old men inside; as if they could hear that well.

Quickly, she weaved in between the chunks of rock she'd been blown out of her way, occasionally looking over her should to check that Revyn was still on her heels, and not getting lost in the dark. Once they came out the other side she threw her arm back and caught him in the chest, saying, "Sssh.. I want to make sure none of them are outside. Borri likes to spend a lot of time outside…" She let her voice fade off, scanning the landscape before her for any sign of one of the Greybeard's. "Hm, looks fine, but be as quiet as you can."

"Mjol, I'm an elf, stealth is my game, you know. Magic and stealth." He grinned up at her from the crouched position he'd assumed when she'd shushed him.

Mjolna looked around the courtyard, squinting into the shadows, willing her eyes to see through them, to see if Borri or one of the others was outside, meditating on the stars. They stayed there, crouched and hidden, for at least twenty minutes, with Mjolna looking and listening for any sign of human life. At last, when Revyn started to complain about his aching joints, she declared the courtyard empty.

"Finally!" he cried, and she quickly shushed him again. "Well you took forbloodyever, girl. I swear my bones were about to freeze togetha'." Though his tone was almost scolding, she could tell there was a grin on his face.

"Well we have to be careful. The Greybeards wouldn't like me bringing a friend to meet their Master. They guard him with utmost caution," she whispered at him.

When they'd walked through the courtyard and up the stone steps, she paused for a moment, Mjolna wondering how she was going to use her Clear Skies shout with waking up the entire mountain and surrounding villages.

Revyn, however, seemed oblivious to the howling wind just beyond the gate and seemingly hadn't noticed Mjolna stop. He walked straight into the solid wall of the mistral gale, and bounce right back off it, howling with pain.

"Rev! Oh my Gods, are you alright?" She ran up the remaining steps to him, cursing herself for not warning him.

He was holding one side of face with one of hands, while the other was wrapped tightly in his cloak. "Let me see, Rev. I have some healing spells, I can help you." Gently, she pulled the hand that was in his cloak out into the open air, and gasped in shock. There was definitely some wind burn, that she'd expected. What she hadn't been anticipating were the half dozen or so tiny needles of ice sticking out of his flesh.

"Oh Gods, I'm so sorry Rev! I should've warned you, I'm sorry," she said to him, almost blinking back tears at this point.

"It's fine," he gasped, "Just do something, please!" His voice was rough and choked and Mjolna wondered if he, too, was trying not to cry.

Keeping hold of his injured hand with one of hers, she used her other to dig into her satchel and grab a healing potion. "Here, drink this while I use my Healing Hands. You'll feel a lot better in a minute…"

She uncorked the bottle and, ignoring his huffs and puffs of pain, placed the elixir in his other hand. When she looked back down at his injured one, she saw, to her horror, that his was now bleeding a little too heavily for her liking. One by one, she plucked the ice spikes from his skin while he gave an almost incoherent whimper with each one. She used her Healing Hands to stop the bleeding and packed some snow on it to help cover the fresh wounds.

Making sure that his hand was healed, she checked to see if he was still drinking his potion, then moved onto his face. It was much the same thing, only there were more tiny spikes and blood. She began plucking them out and used her Healing Hands once more, this time rubbing his face with snow to get the dried blood off.

"That better, Rev? I'm sorry sorry. I should have been paying more attention to you."

"It's alright, love. You did good." Somehow, he was still managing to smile at her, though he twitched a little as he moved the injured side of face. "Let's get moving. I don't want to be here if the Greybeards come out."

Mjolna nodded and got up, turning to the gate again and only using the first part of the Clear Skies shout, though she knew them all, "_Lok!_" she Shouted, as quietly as she could. Then said, in a normal voice, "Come on, lets go before they come to investigate."

They walked a little ways more, neither of them speaking. Mjolna supposed that Revyn was trying to give his face a chance to heal, but she was in desperate need of a conversation with him, seeing as it would probably be their last. Since they had gotten within sight of High Hrothgar her stomach had been in turmoil. She had a jumpy, anxious feeling that she couldn't shake and was beginning to feel a great quilt seeping into her flesh and bones, down into the marrow.

"I wonder why we haven't run into any creatures?" Revyn piped up, bringing her back to the present. "Didn't you say you ran into some snow wolves and a frost troll the first time you came up here?"

Mjolna thought that was very astute of him and wondered how long he had been thinking about it. "I've been wondering the same thing," She replied. Lie. "I was at least expecting a couple of wolves." Another lie. The truth was that Galmar and Wuunferth had probably cleaned off the path one their way up but, of course, she wasn't going to tell Revyn this.

The spent the rest of their journey telling each other of the various creatures and monsters they'd slain; tales of mountain lions, bears, vampires, werewolves, and, in Mjolna's case, dragons. Mjolna wondered if half the things Revyn said were true. Whenever Mjolna was in Windhelm, which was quite often, he was always behind the counter in Sadri's Used Wares. However, this carried them almost to the peak of the mountain when Mjolna stopped dead in her tracks. Something was wrong, very wrong.

She looked up towards the end of the path and saw, to her horror, pink, silver, and white shimmering tendrils of light racing down the path, reaching towards her.

"No," she whispered to herself, then louder, "NO!"

She bolted up the remaining path ahead of her and slid to a stop in the middle of the clearing at the Throat of the World. There, dead on the ground and dissolving into ash and bone, was her former teacher and Master, Paarthurnax.

"NO!" she shouted again, this time looking at Galmar, who was standing by Paarthurnax's head with his iron battle-axe raised above his head. "What did you do!?" she roared at him, fury in every syllable she pronounced. "What did I tell you!?"


End file.
